Hook: Maggie Returns
by Skirtzzz
Summary: Twenty years have passed, and the Banning family has long forgotten their adventures in Neverland. However, things are about to get interesting when the short fused and foul mouthed Maggie rediscovers the fantastic place she had visited once, long ago. Her rocky run-ins with the infamous Hook take an amorous turn, one awkward encounter at a time. (sexual content/strong language)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_"You have been gone for so long...__Do you remember?"_

_"...A little."_

_"We need you now, you know. Very much! He's still alive."_

_"Who?"_

Maggie sat for a moment, waiting. No response. "That's all I remember."

The woman across from her stared momentarily, adjusted her glasses, and spoke. "- and you're having this dream regularly?"

"Yes. Every week or so?"

"So, who do you suppose the voice belongs to?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Maggie scrunched her nose quickly. "It's not a threatening voice or anything. It's calming, to be more specific. Though, she does sound afraid. Worried. It's frustrating. I'm really curious as to what it means."

It had been twenty years since Maggie spent that very memorable Christmas with Grandma Wendy. The one where she got many of her stories. Always ready to deliver when the necessary ears came looking. Or not. In any case, she was ready to fire away to anybody who would give them a listen. Sometimes she would quietly tell them to herself when she would become lost in thought, losing precious minutes of sleep in those late night hours. She played them out so regularly, that they became commonplace when she needed a jolt of inspiration. With such familiarization came a time when she completely forgot about her adventures. She had grown up. Though, most memories lose their purchase on the mind's foreground, but after all this time, these stories in particular had been so well watered, that they grew in her head without her knowledge. Never to be lost.

The subconscious act played out well enough as Maggie grew older. Some people know they aren't necessarily alone in this universe, be it a God, an ancient alien race, or perhaps just another realm somewhere nearby. For her, this was absolutely the case. With no idea what exactly it was, Maggie did harbor beliefs that such a thing was true. The everyday human experience: living, breathing, dying, what have you- was not the end all be all in her opinion. There was a great and intriguing mystery to the world, she was convinced. Though, why it was so obvious to her, she wasn't entirely sure. Either way, this odd gut feeling was a comfort. A silent reassurance at best.

"I'd be happy to get to the bottom of this with you, Maggie." The psychologist craned her neck, smiling apologetically. "You look tired. More tired than the last few weeks. Have you been getting much sleep?"

"Honestly? Nope. Not nearly as much as I'd like. It's been one or two hours here, a couple more in the morning. Scattered. Frankly, I'm exhausted. I haven't been able to turn my brain off once the sun goes down." Looking down, Maggie grabbed at her purse straps, then haphazardly picked the bag up and plopped it on her lap. "My mom calls a lot. She's a little lonely. I don't think she will ever get used to us being out of the house. It's been so long now, though." She played with the zipper pull. "I wish for her sake that Dads workload was less, but ever since he quit the firm and switched to volunteering...well. Let's face it. He goes in head first. He loves what he does, but even without the nagging cell phone and clients, he still works himself to the bone. Some things just never change." Looking out the window, Maggie saw the sun was trying to pry itself out from behind some mildly unenthusiastic clouds. "Though, mom is keeping busy. Jacks kids are in full force. Grandma Moira has plenty to do in that department." Maggie grinned.

"Two now, yes?"

"Yep, a four year old and an overly plump one at seven months. The chaos that ensues. She loves it though, no doubt about it. She'd let them stay all year if she could." She thought about what Jack's wife would say about that. Hernia level maximum, no doubt. Wives and mothers; a fickle relationship sometimes.

The psychologist glanced at her watch, then smiled at Maggie again before standing up. "Shoot- that's it for today. Good talk. Yea? I think we're headed in the right direction. Are we on for another next week?" She straightened her suit a bit and walked over to her desk.

Maggie quickly got up, pushing her bag up to her shoulder, the jingling of change audible. "Sounds like a plan, Jan." Maggie snorted. "It's so great your name is Jan. May I just say that?"

"Whatever floats your boat, lady!"

"I'm definitely a fan. See what I did there?" Maggie opened her mouth comedically, waiting for a response.

"You're corny. Get out of here! I'll see you on the 25th. Go catch those last rays of sunshine before they die out."

"Ah yes, the brilliant warmth of Seattle in December! The Holiday cheer of it all!" Maggie enthusiastically pranced to the door. "Have a good one!"

Through the office door, and down the hall. That smell of paperwork checklists, plastic bottles, incredible amounts of sanitizer, and what could very well be the stench of human nervousness. To describe it is always strange. Maggie knew it well, however. It's often illustrated best with bits of nostalgia. Doctors of all sorts resided in places with such a smell. It reminded her of numerous things.

_Three cavities fifteen years ago. They gave her that purple toothbrush._

_Jacks broken arm. He told her about some baseball guy by the name of Martinez while he itched around his cast. _

_College party, 2008, alcohol poisoning._

_Maggie never forgot the look on her mother's face. "You almost killed yourself!" _

_2010, the year she did in fact try to do just that. Waking up in a lightly sunlit room, an aqua vase sat nearby, various flowers huddled inside. The blinds were white and dusty. _

_She wanted to clean them. That room drove her mad. _

_That smell. The dust on the blinds._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Growing up sucks", as Maggie so eloquently put it from time to time. She would describe it as a car picking up speed and never slowing down. From 5 mph, and crawling to 150. You watch out the windows as things zip by, suddenly in the rearview mirror, and quickly blurring. You can observe for those brief moments that something is in front of you, but time doesn't slow. It doesn't stop. It simply passes. Even when you feel you're as solid and grounded to the 'now' as possible, marinating in the days as thoroughly as you can. You'll always end up looking back at a strange pile of memories. It's terrifying how fleeting the days are. You can sit and hold on for dear life. Break the arms of a chair from the grip. Never let go. Watch each minute on the clock. Devour each second carefully. Conscious. Aware. Though, the truth is, you'll still fall asleep, wake up, and be in a totally different world before you know it. That scene in the chair now faint and strange. You may even forget that it had even happened.

"I can't believe that girl was me." Maggie thought to herself, clutching the steering wheel of her delightfully shitty Honda Hatchback. She often resorted to auto pilot when driving. Her brain was a machine of constant memories and daydreams. The subconscious thought that would pop into her mind the most was the simple fact she had somehow become this twenty six year old woman. It was undeniably surreal. Sure, she had memories of a young girl who once played with her brother for hours on end in the backyard, the summer sun beating down and reddening their small noses. Sure, she recalled times of an awkward, blemished chin teenager making her way up and down the halls of an old, crowded, musky smelling high school. Sure, she remembered those first weeks of college, sleepless nights, and endless experiences she knew she'd perhaps regret the next day. Whoever those girls were though, they sure didn't feel like her. These other Maggie's had all contributed to the culmination of what she was today. Though, as far as she was concerned, she was just some android that had recently been booted up, and given these memories. Sometimes she so vividly remembered things, yet they were strangely unfamiliar at times.

Maggie had slowed to a stop at a red light, and matching her at the crosswalk line was a young man in a red F 150. Bro shades, an obnoxiously neon sleeveless shirt, and a sun bleached head of hair. He did a double take in her direction. "This motherfucker..." she mumbled. Now, Maggie isn't necessarily one to judge, but when the stranger looked her dead in the eye and smooched up at the air, she audibly gawked. He rolled the window down. _Well shit, my window is already partially down. Here we go._ "Lovin' the hair!" No reply came to her in time. "Do hippies give good head?" H_ippie? As ignorant as he looks. Precious._ The light turned green. Maggie let off the brake, "I'd give you a kiss but your mouth looks like a cat's butthole." She sped up and took a left instead of heading straight through. Now on a quiet suburb road, she aimlessly drove around looking for a way to turn around. "A cat's butthole..." She sighed. "What does that even mean." Her heart was slowing down finally. Face flush. Maggie was notoriously easy to fluster, and her comebacks were usually less than impressive. She hated to say nothing, however. Something lit up by her hand. "Gas. Daaaammit." The light had come on, alerting her. Her robotic instincts sent her on a new side quest. A side quest that was going to cost her more than she'd like to bother spending. "I've got five bucks cash, you jag off. That's all you get." She patted the dash like it was some big dumb animal. A block away she saw a spinning clam insignia with the light blue backdrop of sky. "Gas ahoy." Maggie cranked her music down as she rolled into the number seven pump, grabbed her wallet, and made her way into the small building.

Naturally, she weaved down the tight aisles to the fridges on the back walls. _Fuck fuck fuck._ She didn't mean to, she had yet to disconnect these habits. Wine section. Just tiny personal cartons as per usual. Not a problem. Her eyes darted up, down, ah! "Riesling for the win." An alcoholic with classy taste, she liked to think. I_t's cute and sweet. It's also a crutch._ "Whatever." Her inner arguments weren't uncommon, and her physical reactions trumped that quiet voice that kindly asked for her to go with the giant can of tea for a dollar instead. She placed the little boxes on the counter and readied her ID. "Five cash on seven and I've got debit for the drinks." Even she knew her priorities were all kinds of screwed up. The guilt of swiping that card stung. How did she manage to justify this to herself every time? That was the frustrating part. She plopped back into the car after filling up, and sat for a moment. "Fifteen bucks for this fucking wine. Five bucks for gas. Maggie, you're a stupid cunt. Congratulations." Her throat tightened up and she inhaled painfully. She shook the sudden sadness and started the car up. Don't think about it. Just get home.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Back at the apartment, Maggie took her drinks out of the plastic 'thank you!' bag and made her way into the small, fluorescent lit kitchen. Her counters were fairly empty, even though she would prefer to decorate more thoroughly if the funds allowed it. The most standout piece she could be proud of was an antique wooden bowl full of potpourri that had long since lost any hint of the apple spice scent it once gave off. At least it was something. Maggie opened the fridge and placed two of the three wine cartons inside. As she closed the door, a pizza coupon sheet flapped near her face, making her hair pat her brow ever so slightly. _Food. That might have to wait until tomorrow_. She pushed the magnet holding the flyer further left and out of the way, turned around, and twisted off the little plastic cap on her Riesling. Padding quietly into the clean, but empty living room, she collapsed into her dilapidated old papasan chair. It shifted under her slightly. She let out a big sigh and took a swig, one arm lazily hanging out over the cushion. Her view from the glass sliding doors wasn't all bad. She was on the third floor and had several treed areas and a quaint walking trail to look out at. The TV that sat several feet away had a good coating of dust on it as she rarely bothered to turn it on. She didn't care much for the quiet buzz it made, and the small handful of news and home shopping channels always left much to be desired. It was just noise. There was something more calming about the unmoving scenery below. The view from the this spot often sufficed for taking her mind off things.

The sun was on its way down. The sky turned a rich blood red and faded out into a warm navy blue. A few stars became visible, one in particular twinkling strongly. She looked at the scene before her as if hypnotized. She automatically took another drink and continued to stare. On the walking path below she saw something moving. Perhaps the usual dog walker or jogger. It was getting too dark to tell. She observed a bit more, curious to confirm the obvious, but she was surprised to see that neither the familiar movements of a dog or the bounce of a runner on their usual jaunt registered. This was indeed different. Her phone began to vibrate, muffled within her purse. Her concentration on the trail was broken and she pushed herself out of the comfy chair.

"Yeeees momma? What's shakin?" Not a surprise. Mom called throughout the week regularly. Some days are quick check-ins, others are long, sometimes repetitive conversations.

"Maggie! Hello my darling. Just thought I'd see how today went."

"It was the usual. Rosie and I had a decent chat." Rosie had been Maggie's psychologist for the last five months. She met her through a social worker at the hospital. A wonderful recommendation, for sure. Maggie had made it clear that she wanted to actually discuss things with somebody rather than talk at them, and Rosie fit the bill. She had talked her down from a lot of rather frustrating times, but even so, Maggie was one to hang onto bad habits and ways of thinking. That definitely brought on bouts of palpable guilt. Looking Rosie in the eyes and blatantly lying about not having touched a drink in weeks, when she was hung over just that morning, was an absolutely dreadful thing. _"I don't usually lie to her, I mean, I wouldn't pay to waste my time, that'd be ridiculous." _Maggie would mentally repeat this to herself after her sessions. _"It's helping. It just takes time."_ More of her usual inner monologue to argue with herself about.

"Yea, I mean, we talked about the dreams."

"You still have them? The scary ones too?"

"Well, just weird. Mostly. Yes though, and we're trying to figure it all out. Of course, she prefers to cover the more serious issues most days." Instantly regretting having said that, Maggie knew it would surely prompt her mother to ask about-

"The drinking?"

Maggie paused.

"You've...quit drinking, yes?" Her mother sounded painfully hopeful.

She glanced at the almost empty carton on the carpet, "Mmhm." Her stomach sank a little.

"Sweetheart, I'm just incredibly proud of you. You're getting help and you're following through! You've come so far since last winter. It's just wonderful!"

Maggie laughed quietly, her eyes still darting to the same place on the floor.

_I'm a horrible daughter. Tell her, tell her. Tell her the truth._

"So, how have you been?" She changed the subject.

"Oh! Goodness! Absolutely busy! I've been preparing for the family to come visit this Christmas. Jack, Rene, and the kids will be up early again. Spend the week here."

Fucking Rene.

Rene Shingleson was Jacks first and only girlfriend. Rene Shingleson was eighteen when she first came to dinner at their home and insulted her mother's cooking nonchalantly. Rene Shingleson was a screamer and made sure the whole house knew it. Rene Shingleson made fun of Maggie's favorite book, the one that Grandma Wendy had given to her before she passed. Rene Shingleson was a raging thunder cunt.

"Gross."

"Maggie, we have to move past the bad memories eventually. They've been married for four years now. They've made a beautiful family. She's...she's not nearly as bad as she used to be!"

"It was a trap. She poked holes in the condoms so he couldn't get away, mom. She's Satan."

"Oh, you don't know that!"

"Jack was interested in that chick who worked at the shelter with dad, remember? The cute one. The sane, cute one. I think Rene found out and killed her or something. What happened to her?"

"Ohh, Maggie! She moved! Plus, your brother, well, we should just respect his decisions."

"Whatever, It's fucking bullshit. Eleven years. How and why? He's an idiot. I have more respect for ass tumors."

Her mother always got quiet when Rene and Jack's relationship came up. Moreso when Maggie went on her colorful rants. It was one of those topics the family agreed on behind closed doors, but would never dare say it to Jack's face. _"Hey, your wife is the bane of this families existence."_ There was never a good time to drop that bomb on him. It was far too late for that. He acted so blissfully ignorant about it anyway. In his eyes, Rene could do no wrong. Jack was now a vacant husk of the brother Maggie once had.

"Something about Jack. He was always so easy to just...forget people. Remember how close we were before? Then Rene shows up and it's like he's some totally different person. He did that before! What was it? Dammit." Maggie searched her mind.

_...makes you forget...don't forget! Mommy and Daddy!_

"I can't remember. Some shit with dad. Pisses me off though. I swear, that shit dick doesn't even love us. He called me what, two years ago? To boot, you're just a babysitter for his kids, face it."

Her mother sighed into the phone, "Maggie, please. This always gives me a headache."

"Alright, sorry mom. Seriously. We'll put on our happy faces and power through it. I'm going to be there, so we'll have a blast on our own. It'll be really great to just hang out with you again. Can we just eat all week and be lazy? Please?" Maggie laughed, feeling horrible.

"That can be arranged, m'dear! I'll expect you a few days before Christmas then?"

"Uh- yea! You betcha." Maggie replied with some reluctance.

"Fantastic! I miss you terribly, my love! Call before you head out!" Maggie loved when her mother spoke so pleasantly, it almost made her miss living at home where she could hear it more often. Her mother's voice was like a ray of warm sunlight. If she didn't have her caring so much to call, Maggie was unsure how much worse off she would be. Nobody else bothered to give her a jingle. In fact, she only heard updates on the family through her mother. As far as Maggie could tell, her dad and Jack had forgotten about her. Maggie, 'Royal Fuckup' of the family. Oh well. She still felt better off than Jack. At least she had stories. Jack was a bland, boring excuse of a person.

The conversation with her mother ended shortly after, and on a happy note, thankfully. Her mother never seemed to catch onto Maggie's incredible reluctance to be with them, or was just in denial about it. Either way, it was out of the way for now.

"Merry Christmas, ya'll." She mumbled.

Maggie promptly finished off her drink and proceed to work on a second one, cold from the fridge and begging to be consumed. She felt a giddy rush of anticipation work its way through her core from the alcohol. Her favorite feeling. It was like a cozy wave, beckoning her to take off into another realm. She glossed over the drink label, "13%, gettin' shit done." She snorted softly and went back to her chair. By this time the sun's rays were a faint sliver on the horizon and the trees outside were eerie silhouettes in the dark. Maggie wanted to sink away. She proceeded to execute her usual escape route the only way she knew how, and by the time the clock read ten she had finished off the third and final drink.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The crash from the bedroom woke her up. Maggie's head lulled forward before snapping up. Momentarily, she wasn't sure where she was. _The living room, right_. She hadn't been sleeping long. The red glow on the horizon was still faintly visible, though, the room had grown quite dark. Her head was swimming. She was most certainly drunk. It became obvious when she pushed herself forward and out of the chair. Her upper body stood erect for mere seconds before her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Disoriented, Maggie paused there, holding herself on all fours. "Fuck..." She mumbled. She looked up and saw her reflection groggily staring back at her through the dusty TV screen. She heard the sprinkling of glass down the hall. Her alertness perked up. "The hell." She carefully got to her feet and steadied herself, palm to the wall. Her legs felt like busy ant hills. Minute tingling ran throughout the tips of her toes all the way up her thighs. Removing her hand from the wall, she swayed. _Easy does it. _

Down the hall Maggie went, squinting to make out what was ahead. Nothing but the dark opening of her bedroom. Her concentration was spotty. She turned off at the restroom with a new set of thoughts, forgetting about her foggy investigation. She flipped the light on and hissed. Her eyes reacted to the sudden burst of illumination and she slammed her lids shut, grimacing. Her head swung down and she waited until her eyes adjusted accordingly. Once she could see the bathroom in full, she greeted her reflection once more, this time in the medicine cabinet mirror. She grabbed it from the bottom and pulled it open. Inside there were a few half empty orange bottles, some over the counter remedies, and various other oddities. _Bacon band aids_. She went for the aspirin. _Bad Idea, Skipper_. She could feel the faint thudding in her head, a forewarning of the soon to be headache. _You forgot to eat, dip shit. _Nothing she could do about it now. Quick fix. After the slew of crappy decisions that day, taking an aspirin on an empty stomach, and post sweet berry binge didn't seem like that big of a deal. Maggie's common sense had taken a back seat three cartons of wine ago. She shook out the single white pill into her palm, pulled up on the sink nozzle, and awkwardly twisted her head beneath the flow of water. She swallowed, ran the back of her hand across her mouth, and slammed the cabinet shut. The mirror reverberated slightly, and she caught a final look at herself, water dripping from her reddened chin. "Yikes. Hi creepy." She exhaled and shifted her attention to the other half of the bathroom. Looking at the toilet now, she debated if she wanted to extend her visit, but there was a thud, yet again, from the bedroom. "Fuckin', what even..." She wobbled to the hallway. With the extra light source from the bathroom, she could now see a few familiar shapes in her room. The bed, the dresser. The usual. She walked further down and poked her head in the doorway. Everything looked in place until she saw the window. "Whaaaat?" She gasped. It was completely smashed in. Shards were scattered about, some had even managed to make it as far as her bed. She assumed she'd see a rock, a brick, a baseball. Something. No malicious signals had gone off in her. She was on the third floor, after all. No balcony, no drain pipe, no trees close enough. Had to be shenanigans. Testosterone fueled teenage hijinks.

Overwhelmed with dizziness, Maggie stumbled to the bed. She grabbed a side of her comforter and flipped it up. The glass fragments sparkled as they took flight, and tumbled off into the carpet a few feet away. They tinkled softly as they landed. She plopped down on the bed, thinking about how she'd have to report the broken window to the office when she was up and around. They were sort of assholes. She wasn't looking forward to telling them the bad-

_What was that._

Outside. Below. Sounded like an animal. A groan. Perhaps a person? Her imagination took off in a crazed drunken spiral of imagery. She managed to get to her feet fairly fast this time and headed towards the window. She sloppily tiptoed around what glass she could see. As far as she could tell she avoided any injuries, though her feet always got fairly numb when she had been drinking. _I'll know in the morning I guess_. She craned her neck out the window and looked down. The bushes below were dark spots, unmoving. She studied the scene a moment longer, before her eyes came back to what remained of the recently deceased window. She yelped when she saw the blood. It wasn't much, but she checked herself with lightning speed. Palms up. Clear. Flipped her hands over. Clear. Arms. Clear. "S'not me..." She wiped her neck for good measure. Nothing. Her panic strayed momentarily. Grasping to make sense of it. Who's blood was that?

_A bird. I bet it was a bird. Crashed through the window. _

Her mind simply refused to enter 'break-in' territory. The thought of somebody coming into her room made her nauseas. She pushed the idea back.

_Grandma Wendy's house. The sound of that creaky window latch echoed in her head. The nightlights flickering. _

"Nope nope nope." She gave a final shove and the memory crawled back into the depths of her mind once more. She scanned the floor for a dead bird this time. She had to find something eventually. She kept her head down, still looking. That's when the pill took effect. Her head no longer echoed of a headache. No. Her head felt much of nothing now. Floating. She was dizzy again. Her limbs number than before.

_I just took one. Just one. Just one. You couldn't possibly get stomach bleeding from just one. I'm okay. I'll be okay. I think. Just one. It was just one. Totally not dying. Of course I'm dizzy. It's just a little blood thinning. What does a little mean? Maybe any is bad. How drunk am I? How bad could this be? Oh my God. But. I've done this before. I'm fine. Oh my God. What if I'm not fine._

The hot whip of fear sped through her throat down to her gut in mere seconds. She was panicking. She stood up straight. Too quick. She stumbled forward, smashing her hip into the dresser. She would have screamed but the pain didn't have time to register. She hit the floor. A rumbling from above. Her bed side lamp. It fought gravity in small circles. The circles growing as it picked up momentum. Tipping. Tipping. Maggie had only a short moment to comprehend her current position before a sudden white light lit up the backs of her eyes and pulled her into a heavy darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A dimly lit, sea foam green room surrounded her. She lie upon a firm cushion mattress.

That smell.

There it was again.

A hospital.

Maggie lifted her chin to look up, the sound of the disposable pillow case scrunching softly near her ears. She saw the tube lights in the ceiling flickering at random. Then, looking down past her feet, she saw her toes were a cold purple. She wiggled them a bit. Freezing. As she exhaled with a quiet '_brrr' _she saw hints of her own breath. "_Damn, why is it so cold in here?"_ Looking past her chilled digits, she saw the door to her room was wide open. The fluorescent lighting faded gradually down the long empty hallway. There wasn't any staff bustling about out there.

_Why am I here...why am I here. _

The vivid room brought her right back in an instant. She was so sick before. So delirious. This was enough to make her rethink everything that had happened after she checked out. Perhaps she dreamt it all. Like when she'd see herself getting up, dressing, and leaving for work, but waking up moments later, still in bed. Maggie was overwhelmed with disappointment. She was still there. This was a place she had worked hard to forget, though here she was. It was so strangely familiar, yet strangely different. Was this the same room? She observed more of her surroundings and saw a completely out of place picture. It was grandly framed, and the portrait which was showcased seemed to be gazing at her. A period piece of some sort. A roguish man was calmly seated in it. "_I don't remember this ever being in here_..." Then the details had begun to blur. The figure was an out of focus blob of muted colors now. It was vanishing. Before she could register much else, the oil the painting was made up of began to bleed inwards, ominously fading out, until the canvas was nothing more than a blank, yellowed surface. Taking it in seemed too complicated to bother with. She lie a moment longer, her brain mush. Maggie sluggishly rolled to one side and pushed up into a sitting position. An IV in her arm tugged slightly. Surprised to see it there, she removed it hesitantly, heart beginning to pound. She tried to calm down. "_Maybe there's a way to turn up the heat in here. I can look for a call button too..._" She thought.

Maggie was never sure when to trust her surroundings anymore. After the bizarre ways her sick mind could so easily trick her, she had pretty much given up trying to make sense of reality. Hand in hand, the medications she used to take sometimes sent her into surreal realms as well. When she first started taking her antidepressants the previous year, she remembered getting lost downtown somehow. She had come-to in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Standing there in utter confusion. She went up and down the streets for hours. Not walking, but floating. She saw it all go by in a daze. Every pair of eyes she met made her feel more and more scared. They knew. Didn't they? They knew she was completely lost. Mentally. Physically. They could see it in her eyes. She couldn't even speak. She struggled to read street signs. Building fronts repeated. Magazine racks blurred together, the faces printed on them smiling at her. They stared. They saw it too. Her brain had just stopped working. Reality bled out. Everything was spiraling into silent chaos, but her physical body was weak. Exhausted. Her mind frozen in place, petrified and delirious. The worst part was forgetting how she had gotten there. Had she driven? Was she with somebody? What did her car look like again? _Call mom, call mom, call mom._

Her memories whispered in her ears. So many of them. Struggling for attention. Maggie shooed them away, trying to concentrate. For all she knew, this moment was reality. Though, the disappearing painting kept replaying in her mind. It was too weird to be real. "_They've got me on something. Just some side effects. Fucking hallucination." _Maggie slowly placed her feet to the cold linoleum floor. As she began to stand she saw the aqua vase. The various flowers were wilted. Dead. She looked away quickly, feeling unsettled. A sinking feeling swept through her. _Don't fucking look at them._ As if they were some insidious apparition, haunting her. Now up, she started to walk along the wall, looking for a thermostat. Her bare feet slapped the floor. _Slap slap. _She stopped, for the next step she took was quiet. She felt something soft and slippery beneath her feet. Looking down, she saw it was a fine white powder, lightly covering the floor where she stood. Following the base of the wall up, her eyes landed on a dark green chalkboard, hung securely. Upon it, scrawled in a romantic cursive, it read, "_Why parents __hate__ their children." _A crude line scraped beneath the word 'hate'_. _Various paperwork was sloppily tapped to the board as well. Doctors notes, prescription slips, and stuffed into the middle of it all was an old photo of her and her family.

_Never forget, mommy and daddy_.

_Run home._

The jumbled chalk board was a confusing mess of nostalgia. From the depths of her childhood to her declining adulthood. She backed away from it.

_What is this?_

White footprints trailed from her as she went. She was near the doorway now. She stepped out of the room and found herself squinting as she gazed down the hall. No end in sight. _Call button_. Turning to return to her room and continue the search, she was greeted with a white wall. Maggie gasped. Left, right. She looked. The doorway to her room had completely vanished.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck _

She swung around again. In fact, now there were no doors. Either side of the hall was a continuous white wall, lined with cold blue plastic at the base. Every few yards there were more blank, yellowed canvases eerily hung inside of frames. Standing frozen, Maggie weighed her options. Where else was there to go now? _Down there_. _Fuck that. _She put a shaky leg forward, still feeling a coating of chalk dust along the bottom of her foot. Picking up momentum, she began to speed walk with her arms lifted up, and crossed tightly across her chest. She didn't dare cry out for somebody. It was far too quiet, and the sound of her own walking made her uneasy. A mysterious cold breeze pushed past Maggie, prompting her to turn, curiously. She witnessed the lights dimming from the dead end she had just left behind. One by one they went out. The strange breeze picked up again, rustling her hospital gown. As the shadows grew nearer, the floor tiles seemed to morph in the freshly fallen darkness. Something was lifting them up from underneath. Maggie stumbled backwards. _Run run run. _She plowed forward but couldn't bring herself to look away from the dismal scene that was taking place behind her. As she went she watched as dirty roots ripped from beneath the loose tiles, quickly becoming silhouettes in the looming blackout. She was running full speed now, arms set free, thrusting her forward. It was so loud. A rumbling was approaching either side of her. She whipped her head to the right and saw incredible cracks tearing through the walls, keeping up with her pace. Outrunning her. The fluorescent lights began bursting, glass encasements exploded and rained down around her. The shards sounded like screams as they scattered. The roots were monstrous now. They ripped through the ground, beneath her feet, rupturing the tiles underneath her, spraying lumps of dirt as they escaped. She faltered, fighting to keep her balance. Maggie watched as a snakelike root rushed past her and continued on. It then shot upwards, tearing into the ceiling, blocking her path. She could taste the falling soil as it pelted her face, getting in her mouth. More roots twisted around the erected blockade_. _A jungle was building itself up. Trees forming instantly and crowding the once sterile hall. The tearing and crumbling noises were all around her. A roaring whirlwind of pandemonium. The walls were moaning and collapsing, sending chunks of drywall and insulation everywhere. Maggie hit the ground, screaming. She couldn't even hear herself. She could feel the ceiling falling apart on top of her, trampling upon her backside in fragmented pieces. She covered her head, trying to protect it, yelping in pain with each impact. Her knees began to sting. Her sides were being pounded. She could feel the air escape from her lungs. She kept on screaming, desperate to hear her own voice, even if it hurt her to do so.

"Maggie!"

A voice. So close, too. "HELP! FUCKING HELP ME, PLEASE!" She tried to yell. She mouthed it, but still no sound came from her.

"Maggie!" The voice called again.

_You have been gone for so long..._

The noise around her was then silenced. It didn't fade. It simply turned off. The rumbling ceased. The debris no longer fell. All was calm.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Maggie lie still, appreciating the silence. She was horrifically overwhelmed. She coughed, her throat searing. She lay a moment longer, inhaling sweet, cold air. She could smell wet dirt and grass. She was on her stomach. Slowly moving one of her arms away from her face, a beam of sunlight greeted her cheek. It felt nice and warm, though the rest of her felt cold and numb. _I'm outside._ Ideas raced through her head. It entered her mind that perhaps she was on the front lawn of her apartment. _Another bender. I passed out, drunk as fuck. Oh my God. This is so embarrassing. Please Jesus, I hope I didn't piss myself-_

"Maggie?"

"Whoa!" She jolted, rolling slightly away from the source of the voice.

"Oh good! You're alive!" The voice shrieked happily. It continued on, but Maggie was taken by a dizziness as she sat up. Her attention waned in and out. Like waking from an unpleasant nap. Her head was pounding. "Feels like forever ago I said the same thing to Peter! That's kinda funny, huh?" Maggie took in none of this. She just heard the sound of the tiny voice rambling on.

"Ugh." Maggie ran her hand through her frazzled hair, plucking out twigs.

"I dragged him here unconscious, too. I think I see a pattern. Like father like-" She noticed she was talking to herself. "Maggie? Hello?"

Maggie's eyes drifted slowly, taking in the new surroundings. Definitely not her front yard. It was morning, and Maggie could feel the nip of it all around her. A light fog lingered through the trees, the sunlight still creeping in "...Where...are you?" Maggie squinted, her eyes still settling into the bright light of the young morn. She could hear the voice, but couldn't see who or what it belonged to. It was so small sounding. Maybe she had 'butt-dialed' in her drunken stupor, and somebody was on the other line, confusedly trying to communicate with her. She patted the ground, the dewy turf wetting her palm. _My phone is in my purse. Where is my purse then? God dammit._

Suddenly, a brilliant yellow glow took center stage, her field of vision illuminated. A buzzing accompanied it. "Ahheek!" Maggie's arm shot up, shielding her face. _It's a bee It's a bee It's a fuckin' bee_.

"Watch it!" The voice yelped.

Lowering her arm slowly, Maggie now saw the small fairy, hanging in midair. She was no bigger than the length of her hand. Glowing happily against the morning setting, she looked sweetly at Maggie. She donned some rather worn out duds. They appeared to consist mostly of small bits of tanned leather and fall leaves. Her short, shaggy auburn hair was cut in a way that framed her soft, pointed face quite nicely. Little elfish ears sprang out of the sides, blushed at the tips. Frankly, she was adorable.

Maggie must have had a stupid look on her face, because the little pixie was now smiling widely, revealing a set of incredibly nice teeth.

"Mornin'." The tiny thing laughed.

With no idea where to start, Maggie continued to study the creature, dumbfounded. Her mouth hung agape, like a damn dirty mouth breather, tasting the morning air as she did so.

"I hope you're not too upset with me. It was a bit of a rough trip."

Maggie stared.

"You scream really loud. I'm pretty sure all of Neverland knows you're here. We might want to get going, actually." She looked around as she spoke. "I don't wanna stick around to see who finds us first..."

"Where. Ww...what." Maggie licked her lips, took a moment, and tried again. "What happened?" Her voice cut out as she spoke. She could feel just how raw her throat felt now.

"Oh! Well. There was a bit of a scuffle at your place. By the time I got back to you, you were out cold."

Maggie blinked. Waiting for more. The fairy looked back at her, curiously. When nothing came from the wide eyed woman, she continued hesitantly.

"-aaaand. Shoes? You didn't have any shoes on." She looked past Maggie's head. This prompted her to turn and follow the fairies gaze. There, lying a few feet away, was one of her brown suede boots. Maggie's attention returned to the leaf clad sprite.

"Hope those are okay? They were by your bed, anyway."

Maggie nodded. Eyes blank.

"Great! Well, I'm really really really sorry! I dropped you." She pointed with her head. "You uh. Rolled down that hill." It was a gentle slope, covered in moss and some fallen branches from the surrounding trees. Maggie's back interjected painfully. _That explains a lot_. "Dropped the shoes too. That one didn't go too far after it hit you on the head." She said nonchalantly. "As for the other one..." She began looking around again.

_This bitch almost killed me._

"You were totally freaking out. Caught me off guard! One minute you were sound asleep, next thing I know, you're kicking and yelling- and gosh. I just. Well. Lost my grip!" The fairy raised her arms up in a freezing position, eyes wide, then shrugged.

Slowly, the trip here began to recount itself. Or at least, the hard landing.

_The cold breezes. The air getting knocked out of me_.

Looking down at the ground, Maggie saw the jungle floor covered in all sorts of torn up terrain, and rocks.

_The dirt I tasted. The pain in my sides. My head._

She recalled coming-to, momentarily. Trees rushing by in a frantic blur.

_The trees growing and lashing out_.

She lifted a hand to her face, feeling the small, stinging cuts. It was all just a wild ride through the jungle, being dragged in the air by a little magic bug. _Yes, of course_. Hell, as far as Maggie was concerned, she preferred this scenario versus being back in the hospital. She actually felt a wave of relief come over her as it all sunk in. "I'm." She was sorting the dream out for a moment. "I'm not...I wasn't in the hospital?"

"Gosh, no." The fairies eyes widened.

Relief, again. As silly as it was, a fantastical thing like this was delivering a huge sign of reassurance. The smell of the hospital faintly lingered on the brim of her mind. She hated it so much. This mysterious jungle setting was a reprieve. She gladly accepted it, regardless of its severe oddities. To boot, Maggie was undeniably miserable in her apartment. So, while it'd make more sense to be there, she sure didn't miss it. _and anything is better than that fucking hospital bed._ At the very worst, she had just awoken from one dream, and entered another. Then she remembered the aspirin. _Oh fuck, no wonder I'm having such weird ass dreams. _

Turning herself over to all fours, Maggie could feel every inch of her body yelp in pain. Her knees were tender, and the cold moss felt nice against them. She reached out for her boot, tipped over in the nearby grass. She slid the size 7 onto her cold bare foot, exhaled loudly, and looked up at the pixie.

"My other boot." Her dry voice squeaked.

"OH! Yea, right!" The little lady zipped off, her wings humming, into the woods. Her light faded out slowly, and then was gone.

Maggie slowly got to her feet, coping with the chorus of aches, and plodded in the opposite direction to search for her missing boot.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Fuckity fuck fuckerooo." Maggie stood at an odd clearing in the woods. She had come out of the tangled branches, in search of her missing boot, and saw that her shirt was beginning to fray in places. Partnered with her fall earlier, rips were completely inevitable._ So much for this new shirt._ As she yanked the clinging limbs from her, she looked up, and gasped. "BOOT!" There, in the distance, the brown shoe sat neatly upon a tree stump in the middle of the expanse. How it landed this far away, and ever so perfectly, didn't cross her mind. The sore pallet of her naked foot drove her forward, without hesitation. Once she arrived at the lonely projection, she saw its base was whimsically covered with old toadstools. Maggie didn't want to bend down, to spare further exhaust to her back, so she leaned in a bit and swiped at the boot with her fingertips. _Get this thing on the ground. Slip my foot in. Profit._ Though, her plan of action was quickly interrupted when a stout, bearded man, dressed in baggy pirate garb, came bounding out from the jungle in front of her, opposite the stump.

"Gotcha!" The man yelled, triumphantly. "Fell for the oldest trick in the 'boot', eh?" He chuckled.

Maggie shrieked at his surprise entrance, and then started to laugh. He struck her as amusing. "Somebody call the fun police, this guy's droppin' bad puns."

The man's brow could not have raised any higher. "Come again, miss?" he asked, baffled. Maggie noticed the man was injured. His arm was cradled up by his belly, wrapped in a tattered cloth bandage, blood faintly showing through.

"...no? Alright. Sorry." She cleared her throat, wincing a bit, eyes darting from his face to his arm. "Is this your part of the jungle, Tarzan?" Her tone was dripping in uncomfortable sarcasm. Less we forget Maggie's notable conversation skills. "Pretty sure this isn't the Northwest, what with our lack of jungles and everything." She laughed again, feeling like an idiot with each word that came fumbling out. The man shook his head, confusedly, bent down, and snatched up her boot. Maggie was far too achy and tired to do handle this. _Homeless dude wants my shoe. Awesome. _She tried again with the small talk.

"Toss 'er here, slugger." She snorted. However, the odd fellow did not. He tucked it under his good arm and moved forward.

"You don't look like a size 7, broseph." She noticed herself backing away as he came near. "Can you not?" Her voice becoming nervous. Something about the odd smile the man wore was strangely familiar. It wasn't sinister, but it did make Maggie uneasy.

"MAGGIE!" A scream echoed distantly from the thick woods. Maggie's head shot towards the source of the voice. In her moment of distraction, she stumbled backwards, her bare foot slicing through a tangle of weeds. She swung her arms back and landed on her palms, twisting one of her arms as the rest of her came tumbling down. The strange fellow was now bounding in her direction, but looked panicked. Before he could close in, a familiar bright light was now hovering over his head. He swatted at it, yelping. His ear was being yanked on.

"Pixie devil! Git'off!" He began to flail, whipping Maggie's stolen boot through the air like a weapon. In the midst of chaos, the shoe escaped his grip and once again, slammed into her head.

"MOTHERFUCKER." Maggie cried. The odd fight scene continued to take place, its participants completely ignoring her. The fairy buzzed around the man's head, jingles and sparkling dust erupting with each impact she made. "YOU. STAY. AWAY. FROM. HER!" She enunciated angrily as she attacked. The man shielded himself with his left hand and began to work off a striped scarf from around his waist with the other. Once it was loose, he used it as a whip. He swatted madly at the pixie, with audible 'HA's as he did so. The tattered cloth finally clipped her wings, midair, and she fluttered down daintily into the grass.

"N' that's for throwin' me out the window!" He belted, triumphantly. He tromped over to where the tiny creature landed, and scooped her up. "N'dontchu' dare bite me!" From within his loose pockets he pulled out an almost empty whisky bottle, uncorked it, and dropped the fairy inside.

"Have a drink, while you're at it." He harrumphed. The poor thing could only glare at him from within, her hands pressed against the glass. She began yelling something. Maggie tried reading the sprite's lips. '_You stupid ass!' _The boot thief then slipped the bottle back into his pocket.

"I've been fought over before, but this shit takes the cake." Maggie muttered groggily, while rubbing her head.

"Sorry for the trouble, but If you please, miss. I need'ya to come with me." He was calm, but taxed from his little struggle, his breathing a bit unsteady. He offered her his hand, smiling kindly.

"Why in the actual hell would I trust you? You steal women's shoes and beat up fairies. Kinda fucked up." She scowled at him.

"Listen, I've been asked to deliver ye', and I'd prefer if you'd cooperate. It'd make things a lot easier for th'both of us." The man said, matter-of-factly.

"Tell you what." She refused his hand, and got up on her own, grimacing with each movement. "I'll go with you if you take me to a restroom and get me a cheeseburger first. I'm fuckin' starving, and I might just pee my pants." Now, Maggie was a lady, yes, but she wasn't what you would label as classy. 'Well kempt, caring, and incredibly down to Earth' is what you'd hear if you asked anybody who knew her well enough. Apart from those endearing details, she often made questionable first impressions, bless her heart. The girl meant well enough, anyway, spare her lack of a filter. Besides, if she bolted now, she wouldn't know where to begin looking for a way out of here. She'd stick with this oddball until she could think up a plan of action.

The portly gentleman's brows furrowed with great abashment at hearing her request. It took him a second to respond. "Right. Yes. I'm sure that can be arranged. Let's head back then." There was a faint clinking from within his pocket. Maggie envisioned the fairy pounding crazily against the glass bottle that contained her. Maggie felt a bit stuck, she was exhausted and honestly done with this outlandish day as it were. _I'll get her out of there once we get back to town. This guy won't be hard to lose._ It then struck Maggie that she was contemplating an escape from a piratey-clad scoundrel in order to save a flying fairy tale critter. _Wait until I tell Rosie about this shit. She's going to put me right back on my meds. Sweet Jesus. _Maggie exhaled. "Lead the way, Skipper."_  
_

They had been walking through the thick jungle for a few minutes when Maggie began her 'break the silence' small talk. "So, where are we? You've got redwoods and shit in here. Which coast are we on?" There was no reply to Maggie's statement. "Are we even in the States?" The man just kept on, a few feet ahead of her. "Hey, dude, don't give me the cold shou-" She stopped talking immediately. They had come partly out of the woods, a slight drop off ahead. Maggie's jaw hung in awe as she pushed forward to get a better look. "Hoooooly shit." She gasped. Spanning out in front of her was a wide and stunning landscape. She stood at the edge of a flat top crag, flowers of all sorts blossoming wildly upon it. It overlooked a vast, cerulean ocean cove, surrounded by rich, colorful greenery. Large, curiously shaped mountains were wrapped around the calm cul-de-sac shape. As she scanned the wondrous spectacle before her, she could detect each season. While one end of this island was dazzling and warm like a summertime escape, the far end was snowcapped and still. "...h-hey." Not breaking her gaze, Maggie gestured her hand out lazily to get her guides attention. "Where are we, exactly?"

"The Never Neverland."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_What. In. The. World._

The change of scenery was quite striking. Maggie's footfalls had been delivered from the soft dirt of the jungle, to a wooden plank walkway. It was a fairly quaint entrance, framed by tangled leafage and vines, that led out to a much wider backdrop. Ahead of her was a shabby, bustling town that extended out over the water. The clamor and commotion all around was seasoned with the caws of seagulls, circling above and resting on crooked dock posts. Constructed mostly of boardwalks, it was crammed full of odds n' end buildings, and dingy shop fronts. At the furthest end there was a large harbor, where Maggie could make out a handful of traditional vessels, their masts swaying gently along with the body of the boats. Certainly, this town had quite the personality.

Maggie suddenly felt exhilarated. The need to scope out this new place and its curious appearance was strong. _I bet there are some sick antique shops here. _That thought alone got her blood pumping. There was a giddy, yet eerie retention flashing through her mind. Maggie absolutely lived for that feeling. She was addicted to the rush of nostalgia and remembrance. Things from her past, and places saturated in history intrigued her to no end. They reminded her of past lives. Her childhood. Simpler times, overall. Why this place brought that out in her, she wasn't entirely sure, but she knew the feeling well when it struck.

"Hey, this place have a name?" She asked her hairy hijacker.

"This here 'es known as Pirate Town." He answered, shrugging slightly. "Don't remember it, eh?" He said it with confusion, lifting his brow once again.

"What do you mean?" _I've been here before? _She found herself wanting an answer to that straight away, though, she was jarringly interrupted.

"Mister Smee!" A ratty fellow hollered from under a wooden shelter. He was stacking barrels, but stopped to wave a hearty arm in their direction.

"Aye!" Another man, loading a fish cart, became alert and excited upon hearing the name.

This triggered a fall in of calls and cheers from the surrounding crowd, and as it spread outwards, Maggie could even see heads popping out of windows high above. _People really dig this guy._

"Are you King of the Reenactors or something?" Maggie puffed, a catty smile running across her face. _This is fucking hilarious. _

Smee was wholeheartedly distracted by his uproarious welcoming party and was ignoring her again. Maggie was feeling impatient, as her stomach and bladder began to turn up their aches in unison. "Sweet Jesus, I gotta find a Honey Bucket or something..." She muttered. Turning about, she looked for someplace that might have promise of a public facility. She spotted a soup kitchen not too far ahead, and figured she'd check it out. Smee didn't seem like he'd notice if she split for a few minutes.

Maggie took off at a quick pace, heading down a more vacant boardwalk. Cutting across creaky boards, stepping over empty fishing nets, and avoiding buckets full of fish heads, she soon found herself at the rickety establishment. At the building front, she noticed the doorway was in the style of an old saloon. She pushed her way inside, and was further entertained by the folks whom resided. _Wow, people really take this pirate thing seriously around here. _She was undeniably conflicted._ Maggie. For shit's sake. They're probably legit. Did you already forget about the FAIRY? _What did legit even mean at this point? What did any of this mean? _I'm spiraling...oh shit. Relaaax. _Apart from facing these odd visual prompts, she still wasn't sure what to make of it all, but the fact of the matter was, she had to piss like a racehorse.

"S'cuse me. Have you got a restroom...?" Maggie had sauntered up to the ringlet stained counter and locked 'eye' with the patch wearing gentleman that stood behind it. He had a perma-sneer that undoubtedly amused her. He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, sniffled deeply, and then returned to work. "Right. Thanks. Down the creepy hallway. Gotcha."

Maggie had been to shady, gross pubs and bars before, so this was nothing. No public restroom could ever phase her. She made her way down the stale smelling hallway and went through the only door that looked auspicious enough to be the bathroom. In that moment she was, for once, shocked. "They don't fuck around." She said out loud. This was the most historically accurate latrine she had ever laid eyes on. Or ever, for that matter.

The throne before her was basically a wooden box with a hole cut out of it. Either this place was that old, or this town took portraying history _very_ seriously. _Or this is a real fucking pirate town._"Forget it." She shook her head, and closed the unfortunate slab of wood that's sole purpose was to be a door.

She only got halfway through unzipping her short shorts, when she noticed that there was no toilet paper to be seen. "Mother. Fucker." Luckily, there was a sink, if you could call it that, perched lazily in the corner of the small room. It'd be of use afterwards.

She was too desperate. In her furious agony of having held it that long, she broke. Hovered over the ominous shit hole, she let loose. Her eyes rolled up and she sighed, laughing pleasantly. "Thank you Jesussss."

Relived, yet suitably irritated, Maggie awkwardly hobbled over to the sink, her knees holding her shorts up above her ankles, and flipped the latch on the dilapidated sink. "My life. This is my life and I'm not surprised." She quietly sang the improvised jingle to herself as she splashed what had to be the coldest water of all time onto herself. "Ffffffffffffucking obviously!" She shrieked.

Once all was said and done, she pulled up her bottoms, grimacing as her cold crotch made contact. "This is so sad." Whining, she proceeded to wash her hands, fingertips going numb under the flow of water, and then patted them on her shorts to dry. "Alright, I'm outty 5,000." She sighed, then made her way out of the restroom, left through the saloon doors, and headed back to where she had left Mr. Popularity.

"There you are!" An angry Smee announced.

"Sorry man, remember the whole, 'gotta pee' thing?" She apologized bitterly, flapping her arms out.

"Can't have you runnin' off then! A slimy worm you are! Grab her up boys, the captain's expectin' this one, pronto!" He called at the surrounding crowd, out from which walked two very brutish and intimidating men.

"I didn't...DUDE. I went to the-" She got caught up in the hustle of being grabbed from each side. "L'eggo, shit fer' brains!" She twisted in their firm grasps, her arms looking quite tiny and frail in their monstrous hands.

"I thought we were cool, Smeagol!"

"Smee!" The two men growled, correcting her.

"WHAT THE FUCK EVER!" She shot a death glaze to each of them, still wriggling in their vice grips. Smee had taken the lead a ways ahead, and the ogre-esque lackeys began after him. Maggie's feet went from dragging across the planks below, to simply hovering in-between the two men's steady stride. There was no getting out of this one.

She watched from either side, the passing scenery, and noticed countless pairs of eyeballs watching as they cruised by. Three particularly frilly individuals caught her attention for a moment. It was a gaggle of hilariously dressed Rococo themed damsels. Powdered faces, violently applied blush, and insanely puffed hair-do's were a common theme between the women, and age seemed to have no relevance. One blonde, dressed in a glossy blue taffeta, looked to be in her late 30's, while the granny faced, red head in green had to be around the bend from 80. Their vibrant colors stood out amongst the dusty brown pallets of the overall crowd. Though, their expressions were oddly different from the majority of gawking onlookers. The ladies definitely had their eyes on the her, but they looked attentive and somewhat resentful.

Maggie's current condition kept her from thinking too much about it, and before long they had walked past them, and onto an upward slanting walkway. It led to a frightfully ominous ship, detailed with rich faded reds and gold. She couldn't see it in its entirety, but on the front of the ship, and clutched morbidly beneath the bowstrip, was a skeleton. Large and for decorative purposes, surely, but freaky nonetheless. Her heart sped up at the sight of it.

As it exited her view, she was now up the walkway far enough to see onto the ship's deck. It was clustered with pirate folk as well, who all looked far too enthusiastic about the situation. _I'm either high as fuck, or Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out and reveal the camera crew... _Her thoughts were random and frantic, obviously. She wasn't worthy of a high budget television scare, was she? _Jesus, that thought is almost scarier than real pirates. I really don't want to be on TV. If they caught me wetting my cooch on camera I'm going to kill myself. _They had now reached the main deck in full, and were centered in front of an elegant staircase. The crowd wound itself around, making space for Smee and the thuggish louts that had carried Maggie.

"Put me the fuck down! Seriously!" Maggie's aches were returning in full force, and visions of her entire trip to this place replayed in her mind furiously. _This is nuts, nuts, nutty nuts. _She executed a full forced distortion to loosen the men's grip, her body kicking wildly to the side. It hurt her more than she would have preferred, but to no avail. They held on. She kicked at their legs for good measure, yet the only tightened their grips.

Maggie then remembered a drunken college catfight she had once had. Some skuzzy upperclassmen had her held down, three against one, and in her most pure moment of animalistic fury, she had bitten one of them. Oddly enough, It was an incredibly victorious moment. Maggie always had a hard time comprehending that she had done it, but always felt that little surge of gratification when it would cross her mind.

So, in this bizarre moment, the trip down memory lane couldn't have come at a better time. _Fuck it._ Her head swiveled to the left, she opened her mouth, and went for an arm. In her attack haze, she concentrated on biting as hard as she could. She held until something happened, forcing her mouth as tight as possible until she could feel the pressure overcome her jaw. Finally, the grunt could no longer take it. The man opposite him had a moment of panic while watching Maggie attack, as if a spider had crawled onto his arm, and in that moment, they both frenetically threw Maggie forward, tucking their arms in and stepping back near the crowd.

She hit the ground with a generous thud, her legs projecting up from the collision with the deck. They came back down hard, her ankle bones chattering together. Maggie yowled, her face down. The intake of breath was full of dirt and dust, igniting abrupt and painful coughing. After the brief fit, she could hear thundering cheering and chants from the crew. Some oo'd, some laughed, but nobody came to her aid. Maggie was humiliated and undeniably upset. Apart from that, she was again handled quite carelessly, and she could feel it all over.

She lifted her head a bit, resting on her arm. The clank of her vile shaped necklace upon the boards sounded hollow and dainty, and that's when Maggie noticed that was all she heard. Once the accessory had rolled to a stop by her arm, it was apparent that everybody aboard the ship had grown weirdly quiet, all at once. Maggie slowly pushed herself up to her feet, and was facing the silent crowd. Even the fowl in the sky had become hushed. She looked from face to face, and not a one was looking at her. They all looked past her. _The fuck is happening. _As if time itself had stopped. Only the muted throng's clothes ruffled lightly in the ocean breeze.

Maggie backed away from them, glaring suspiciously. Suddenly, the entirety of her slender frame came to an abrupt halt. A tiny cry escaped her as she made contact. She faltered, losing her balance in the alarm. She had backed into someone. _Oh God, who now. _She found herself leaning into the stranger behind her, her backside pressed flat against them. Her hand fought to find support so she could push herself away quickly, but a searing cold caress made its way across her neck, stopping her in her tracks.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Welcome back, Maggie..."

_My child, don't be afraid._

That voice. It tore asunder the tightly closed vault of Maggie's once forgotten memories. The overwhelming rush of days long since passed. In that very moment, any doubt she had about her brief adventure in Neverland, the incredible feats she survived, came rushing back in vivid detail. The shadow that once haunted her in the night. It had all been real. As real as his warm breath on her ear now.

_You're a bad man._

In absolute panic, Maggie's hand rushed up to the arm now locking her into its grasp. She took hold, and swung herself out from under the chilled metal. The tip of the weapon caught her under the chin, and she cried out as she hit the floor.

Looking up, Maggie found herself undeniably bewildered. He stood there, as familiarly striking as the day she first saw him. She felt like a child again, what with him now towering over her. A menace from so long ago.

**Hook.**

"Holy hell..." She breathed.

The villain clicked his tongue, " Reckless, my dear." He gazed upon his notorious claw, and with a gloved hand, cleaned the tip of it. Without turning his head, he shifted his gaze to the dumbfounded woman that sat before him.

In her shock, Maggie didn't notice the hot, steady stream of blood trailing from beneath her chin, down to her neck.

"Smee, a handkerchief, please." Hook requested casually.

"Ah, yessir." Smee quickly began digging into his saggy pockets, and pulled out a dainty cloth. An intricate J.H. was embroidered in red on a single corner of it. He walked it over to the captain. Taking the material, Hook kneeled down in front of Maggie and proceeded to gently address her wound. She looked up at his face, hardly breathing. He hadn't changed at all.

Hook noticed she was staring. He raised one of his dark, messy brows at her. "You look as though you've seen a ghost." Still lightly dabbing her cut. His eyes glowed in the faint sunlight. As he looked upon her, she felt her cheeks get hot. His lip twitched under his tidy handlebar moustache. "Surprising, how quickly the color has returned to your face." He murmured, noticing her unusual flushing.

Her overall reaction couldn't have felt more muddled and confusing. She had been caught off guard. Her first reception was terror, though, as she sat there, finally confronting this dark foe of her youth, she felt oddly indifferent.

Hook studied the young woman. _This curious creature. Can she be the same girl...?_ He supposed she looked somewhat familiar. The soft, long, almond blonde hair. The vivid blue eyes. If it were in fact her, she had, without a doubt, grown up. Hook hadn't been expecting that. He had predicted she would have been the same frightened child he had once kept in his possession, long ago. Though, it was foolish to assume anything. He recollected that long awaited confrontation with Peter. He had been so dissatisfied.

_Can it be? My great and worthy opponent?_

Hook often forgot that time had its way of aging those away from Neverland. That young, fiery eyed boy was gone forever. It made Hook's stomach sick just thinking about it. As if their rivalry meant nothing. Such horrible form.

Pan had the audacity to leave a second time, and made the mistake of assuming his nemesis was dead. What good was a duel to the death when both men were left standing? Oh, Hook was furious. Hurt, even. His patience had indeed been tested.

How much longer would he have to wait until he got another chance? The anticipation tore at him every day. Each time his furry faced bo'sun would come running into the cabin, his heart would falter, always expecting news of Pan's elderly death.

_"We have to hurry. We need try again, dammit. Just get him here!"_ Always followed by a raging swing of his hook. The once handsome cherry wood desk he'd sit and brood at was now a hacking target for the iron claw's furious strikes. Smee found himself sweeping up the ever accumulating piles of sawdust that would form on the floor beneath the poor workspace, feeling lucky his captain was taking out his anger on inanimate objects.

Hook thought of Peter and his family returning to their lives, moving on, forgetting him again. It drove him absolutely mad. He was not finished with them yet. Hook would be damned if he would leave things as they were. A stubborn man, he was. A man scorned. Insulted.

He was incredibly displeased with the closing scene from their last battle, and when things weren't to Hook's liking, he required do-over's. He still wanted a war. A real war. He would try again. He would prepare. He would be ready. Neverland would be at his mercy, oh yes, and Pan would have no choice but to return. While the island became enveloped by a fiery battlefield, its residents all pitted against one another, Hook would take to the center of all the disarray and await the inevitable final battle. The chaos he would paint across the island would be delicious.

So, yet again, Hook found himself looking at a piece of his old adversary. The offspring of his ultimate opposition. The perfect bargaining chip. Yet, Hook didn't feel the same disappointment for her growing older. Surprised, surely, but definitely not disappointed. She was still Pan's daughter, and she would be useful in bringing his plans to fruition as before. Though, her aging meant Pan was significantly older now. Just as he feared.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Hook encircled Maggie's free hand with his claw, pulling it up to her chin. He placed the handkerchief into her hand, and as she grasped it, he pushed her hand back to the wound. He then got to his feet, their intense gazes failing to falter. "Well, do you wish to speak?" He addressed her, with an inquiring look.

"THAT." She pointed to his hook, shaking her finger crazily before returning it to the floor just behind her for support. "I fucking remember that." She inhaled and swallowed, "YOU. I remember YOU." She felt numb. Holding herself up was a challenge that she subconsciously realized, as her attention was fully concentrated in front of her. What was happening in her mind was an entirely different story. It thundered wildly as if a stampede was recklessly crashing through. She could feel the aching pinch of the vein in her temple as it began to rise and throb.

"So glad you remember." He opened his arms, palm up, hook at rest. "I must say, I'm flattered that I could be so quick to jog your memory." He smirked.

"It wasn't a compliment. I'm sorry to say, I have absolutely zero pleasant memories of you." Her voice had gotten deep, flustered. She kept the hankie pressed tightly against her cut as she pushed herself to her feet. She took a few steps back, while dusting the back of her shorts.

"No matter, Maggie! You're here now. Please, get comfy while you wait for daddy to come to the rescue." Hook stated with a lip biting statement, now looking out to his pirate crew for a reaction. They laughed and whooped, taking the smiling visual cue from their leader.

"Whoa whoaaa!" Maggie yelled over the crowds enthusiastic eruption. The gathering of men quieted, some directing their attention to her, others looking to Hook for his reception. "You're kidding, right?" She started to laugh, her annoyance coming through. "Surprise, motherfucker, I doubt anybody knows I'm even here!" She spat.

Hook was quiet for a short moment before he turned to Smee, "You took her from the home of Wendy, did you not?" He spoke slowly, with an acidic tone. Smee shifted uncomfortably, reluctant in the spotlight.

"Ah'm. Reconnaissance was a bit troublesome, sir. The Darling's home was empty. Had to track this one down. The girl is on her own now, quite far away, to boot." Smee uttered.

_What, did they think it'd be just like the night they took us the first time?_ Maggie pondered the situation. Grandma Wendy had been gone for years now. The house now cleared out, void of everything that once made it the birthplace of her wild and fascinating stories. The family never to gather there again.

"N' ya see, the pixie-" Smee went on.

"What of her?!" Hook snapped, his eyes grew wide. He had a short fuse on patience, and it usually ran thin upon the delivery of bad news.

"She knew I was comin' for the girl. She..." He looked over at Maggie, as if searching for some kind of reassurance. "Must'ave been followin' me the whole time! She beat me there. Took her!" Smee lifted his arm, hoping for even the slightest ounce of sympathy.

"You were overpowered by the fairy?" Hook's stare was tearing through his second-hand man, who was visibly trembling. Smee hesitantly nodded. "I leave you to your own devices, and yet you fail?" A discontented Hook continued.

"I apprehended the lady shortly after she arrived. Chased that fairy bitch back, I did. Caught her too!" Smee tried to sound confident. He pulled out the bottle which contained Tinkerbell, shaking it proudly. The fragile fairy tumbled around haphazardly, whisky splashing all around her.

Hook snatched the bottle out of Smee's hands, and glanced at it. "Ahh yes, Miss Bell. Always getting involved, aren't we?" He then followed suit and tucked the glass into an ornate pocket on his rich red jacket, hiding the helpless creature from sight once more. Hook strode away slowly, looking out over the water. The caw of the seagulls playing during the short intermission.

Hook then spun back around. He sighed, a low growl audible, "and HOW do you suppose, Mr. Smee, that Pan will learn of her BEING HERE?" He struggled to keep from yelling the entire question, the creases between his brows becoming more prominent. "Dare I even ASK where Jack is?"

Smee gulped, and was about to attempt a response, but Maggie imposed, "There's no getting to Jack. His wife is a psycho insomniac that watches him sleep. She's convinced his penis will just start fucking everything if she's not looking. Smee is lucky to be alive, honestly." She snickered.

"It's true! I swear to ya, sir! Didn't see her when I went in. Jack was alone in his bed, n' that horrible woman came out of nowhere! Hit me right o'er the head! I took out through the children's room, trippin' and hollerin'- damn well woke the whole house-"

"STOP." Hook bellowed. "You mean to tell me that Jack now has young children of his own? If you knew Maggie and Jack were grown, did it not occur to you to perhaps take them instead? Would it not have been easier?" He grumbled, while rubbing his forehead.

"S-sir. You DID request Pan's children. I mean, I suppose I could a've..." Smee spoke, frustrated, but very quiet.

Hook closed his eyes and inhaled. "What a mess. What an absolute mess." He paced. "Alright, alright. This can still work. What of the girl? What did you find out?" He conversed as if Maggie weren't standing near him. Smee perked up, and reached into his vest. He presented Hook with various paperwork and photographs he had tucked away there.

"Everythin' you need to know is here. It's Pan's brat, you betcha'." Smee sifted through the papers, both of their eyes feasting upon them. Hook slid on some delicate, gold rimmed reading specs as he looked over the information. He bit his lower lip, the creases in his chin becoming more noticeable.

"Excuse me? The hell is all that?" Maggie asked, looking puzzled. The two men disregarded her question, completely enveloped in the documents before them. Suddenly, Hook tore the glasses off and grabbed Smee by the neckerchief. The papers were dropped in the scuffle and fluttered onto the ship deck. "She. Is. A. DUD. You idjit!" It was a grumble loud enough for Smee's ears only, though Maggie heard the heightened volume on the 'dud' part. Her mouth opened, expression perplexed. She then noticed as the various documents came to rest near her feet.

Maggie bent down and scooped up the sheets, dropping the handkerchief in the process. She glanced at the papers, then shrieked, "This is all my hospital shit!" She shuffled through more of it,"...college grades? Work history? HOW DID YOU EVEN GET THIS STUFF?" She stopped when she came to the final slip and felt her gut sink as she realized what it was. "...you fucking assholes." She spoke, exasperated.

She held in her hand a creased note she had intended to leave her family. The last note she thought she would ever write. Shortly after writing the note out, thinking her goodbyes were suitably dealt out, honest and thorough, she placed it on the night stand. Maggie then proceeded to curl up into her bed, and get comfortable. Hopefully sleep would come first. It wouldn't take long now.

Maggie was torn out of her unfortunate reminiscing when she saw Smee begin to retrieve something else from his pocket, panic, and then quickly cram it back. She wasn't the only one who noticed, Hook had as well. Without a beat, he laid out his palm, looking at Smee with a deadly stare. The stubby man shyly placed the wanted item facedown into the silent hand before him, and proceeded to look away, turning a crude shade of red.

Hook had been given a photo, and the moment he laid his eyes upon it, Maggie saw his brow raise once again. His head tilted, in a very peculiar, dog like fashion. He looked past the picture, directly at her, and then back down. "Oh my. You _have_ grown up..."

Maggie was already livid. Her personal boundaries had been blasted wide open, she felt exposed. Stripped down. She stood as the broken person she often tried to forget she was, and now they knew everything. _What the fuck else could they possibly have..._

"Hand it over, shit head." She stomped over to Hook with burning purpose. When the pirate did not do as she had asked, she swiped the photo from out of his gloved fingertips with cat-like reflexes. _Oh GOD no._ Her face went white. She began to growl in a high, furious pitch. The photo Smee had tried to withhold was an undeniably sensuous image of Maggie, donning a revealing, ivory lace ensemble. Her back erotically arched, and face looking quite alluring, it was one her her more mature modeling moments. _Out of all the pictures...had to be that one._

Maggie had tried her hand at modeling with the assistance of some photographers that she had met through college friends. She had felt inclined to give it a shot, seeing as she was often complimented on her rather lovely looks, and boyfriends weren't uncommon either, for that matter. So when the opportunity arose, there wasn't much that detoured her, self esteem wise. Twenty three was an odd age of uncovering herself, pun intended, as she settled into the hazy frontier of womanhood. The glamorous reception of being a model had infected her for a short time, and she had a handful of rather nice, but risqué, photo shoots she took part in that made up her portfolio. She managed to score shoots for several decent magazine spreads, and a variety of successful clothing websites in her short lived career. Unfortunately, with the financial relief the work provided, she was introduced to some unsavory individuals, which ultimately aided in playing a rather large role in her downward spiral. In the end, Maggie had preferred to do her best to forget that time in her life. She found the evidence of it quite embarrassing now. Especially with two idiotic pirate men now ogling it. _Mortifying. _

Hook was now looking at her with a very different set of eyes, while Smee still couldn't bring himself to look at her. It was clear that having to register Maggie as an adult was not as simple a task as one would assume. They stood quite silently.

"Anything else you'd like to know?" She paced vehemently, her hands holding her head. "You goddamn creeps." She then looked over to see the crowd of unkempt faces looking at her, peculiarly. "Having fun, assholes?!" She snapped at them. Several of the men in the front row reeled back in fear. _What is this, seriously._ Maggie's head shifted over to Hook with sudden ferocity. She then glided up to him, her face sullen and intimidating. She had an idea. _The only person here that can help me now is..._

Maggie forced a coy smile, leaned in a bit close, "You know what? Forget it. You can keep that, if you'd like." She kept her eyes locked with his. The look on her face slowed Hook's theoretical cogs. She then quickly slipped her hand into his coat pocket and successfully snatched the whiskey bottle. Although, her triumph was short lived. Hook had snapped out of his daze quickly, grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her arm up. The bottle fell from her hand right away as she twisted uncomfortably and yelped in his tightening grip. "Ahh, bad form, my dear!" He hissed.

"Let go!" Maggie hollered. Her wrist beginning to ache. Her resistance only added pressure, and she reluctantly fell into Hook to lighten the strain. Partially on her tip toes, her face at the nape of his neck, she whispered, "Please! Please stop, that really fucking hurts." Her eyes watered.

Now, Hook was not one to ever deal harm to a woman. To him, it was incredibly poor form. Though, in this moment of weakness, his fragile ego had taken control, and it screamed into his mind, _You'd really let Pan's daughter best you like that? Embarrass you in front of your entire crew, no less?_

Hook hesitated. He had loosened his grip some, his guilt fighting back against his wounded pride. The girls head was propped right beneath his chin, her distressed breathing tepid against his neck. A pleasant aroma greeted his nose suddenly. _Tea tree._ He could smell her hair. It was such a nostalgic scent that he was oddly inclined to take a deep breath of it. The warm, minty fragrance delivered to him an uncalled-for wave of tranquility. It made him calmly coherent. _Relax, James. Handle it. _

Maggie sighed, returning her feet flat to the ground, and looked up at the smokey eyed scoundrel. The two stared at each other, expressions wary. Hook opened his mouth, but closed it again._ What a confusing creature she is._ He didn't dare soften in his mixed feelings. He had to keep the upper hand. Channeling the intimidating, silver tongued pirate he was, he spoke to her in a low, rumbling voice. "Be careful, now."

Maggie was taken aback by the entire debacle, her dread in his presence slowly returning. _Maybe I _should_ be afraid._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The Banning's household was located in a quaint, immaculate neighborhood just outside of Billings Montana. During the time Peter had called it quits on the lawyer business, they decided to try something completely new. They opted for a place that was more secluded, but still close enough to the city. Moira got to enjoy her days relaxing in their lodge-esque home, which had a very stunning view of the Blue Creek. Peter especially enjoyed it, as the location was fairly ideal for his various voluntary work, as it was no more than a twenty five minute drive into downtown. The couple felt they had both won out with the situation.

Moira had gone out of her way to make the house as warm and welcoming as possible, and particularly enjoyed going in and out of the rooms, appreciating her fine decorating. It was quite American for her tastes. She wasn't as privy to the styles when she first moved to the Sates all those years ago, post engagement to Peter. She had, however, grown quite accustomed to the country life and found a new interest in the various types of home decor that fit that particular scene. Her favorite part in their home was the stone fireplace. It became commonplace for Moira to spend hours in the living room, just her and a cup of her favorite tea.

Though, Moira was alone quite a bit. Peter still worked a fair amount of hours, and it was painfully quiet some days. Today, however, was a day she had been very much looking forward to. She had counted down the days, and the 25th had finally reared its head. Her son Jack was on his way with his family, and Moira couldn't have been more excited to see them. Soon the house would be full of the sweet, innocent sounds of children laughing, and all of the wonderful smells that came with the holiday season.

Moira paced through the entry way every few minutes, like an expectant dog awaiting the return of its master. Any minute now, they'd be knocking at the door.

"How about you come on in here and just sit down?" Peter poked his head out from around the kitchen.

"Ohh I know, I'm just so thrilled to see them! I can hardly stand it!" She smiled.

"Here, I'll pour you some of my famous spiked eggnog." He shook the carton with a grin.

Moira had turned to join him, but there it was, the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway.

"OHH! They're here!" She sang, speed walking to the door. She made her way out to the porch, being greeted by the cold nip of the morning. She waved frantically, one arm held tight beneath her breasts, keeping her cardigan closed. "Brr, get in here guys! The fireplace is all ready!"

"Hey mom!" Jack walked out from behind the open trunk, arms full of bags. He had gotten to the bottom of the steps when a wail came from the car, "JACK! You need to grab my bags too, you know how my back is." It was Rene. She was still in the passenger seat, checking her makeup. Moira waved to her, but Rene sighed at looked back to her compact.

"Grandma!" A joyous voice called out. It was Jacks' oldest, Lanyard. He had leapt out of the car, his backpack dragging behind.

"My darling boy!" Moira crouched down, arms open. She received the child in a tight embrace, laughing. She had missed having young children, and as unfortunate as Jack's choice in mates was concerned, he still had two wonderful children that she got to spend a fair amount of time with. Those were the things she looked most forward to. She was always hoping Maggie would follow suit so she could partake in grand mothering a little longer.

"Get your bum inside and go see Grandpa!" Moira patted Lanyard on the shoulder and pointed him inside. Jack waited for her to stand back up before doling out an awkward one armed hug, the bags on his shoulders threatening to tumble down his arm at any moment. "I'm gonna toss these in the entry way and grab Mischel real quick."

Jack had wanted so badly to name his daughter after his favorite grandmother, or great grandmother, to be exact, though Rene wouldn't hear of it. "She's dead anyway, why bother? She won't ever get to meet her, so don't bother kissing her ass now." She wouldn't even entertain the idea. So instead of traditional names, Rene felt the need to give her boy the same name as a fabric pass holder, which she still denies is the definition of it, "It's attractive and modern." Her daughter, on the other hand, was given the unfortunately snobbish misspelling of the name Michelle. Her reasoning was that it was unique. "This name isn't in name books. She'll have a unique name, and, if she gets famous, it works even better. There's Britney, Christina, and soon- Mischel." As always, Jack would nod and agree. He didn't dare bother pitching ideas for names. He did the first time and learned that it was a very silly thing to try and do, of course. Rene had looked over at him one night and said, "Don't bother coming up with names anymore, you're not pushing this thing out. I am. I name it." That ended the argument quite quickly.

Rene finally got herself out of the car, adjusting her pretentious handbag's straps, and zipping up her sweater coat. She had on a simple pair of black leggings, which allowed you to see the shapes of her ass jostling within the fitted cotton polyester blend as she walked. She was quite fit, and easy on the eyes, but the second she opened her mouth, she was the ugliest person you could have the pleasure of meeting. Upon entering the realm of dating, Rene had treated Jack like a puppy, and in return, he often acted as one. She once spoke to him in a high pitched baby voice, but after the ceremonial words were exchanged, she dropped the cute thing and began to yell and holler at him most days. That is, unless she really needed something.

Rene made her way up the walkway and onto the porch, not stopping to hug Moira. "I have to pee, I've been holding it since Sheridan."

Jack and his family had settled into Carson City in Nevada and didn't make it up more than three times a year. Moira found herself visiting as much as possible, even if it wore her out to do so. Those kids were going to grow up fast and she wanted to see as much of them as she could. However, Rene couldn't be bothered, especially with her own children most days. She was the bread maker and did her best to stay at work as long as possible, leaving Jack to raise the kids full time. She was a personal fitness trainer, and unbeknownst to Jack, was having a handful of steamy affairs on the side. All with clients that had as much of a penchant for veggie smoothies and working on their 'glutes' as she did. Rene had given up on Jack, physically, years ago. Jack had gained some weight over the years, his chin finally disappearing around 2008. Once the kids came, the last thing he worried about was his appearance. Jack keeps his 'marital bliss' prescription glasses on and even if he found out about his wife's infidelity, he'd only refuse to believe it. Oh, of course, Jack's life was ideal. He told himself this every day.

The family had gathered into the living room, the warm fire creating a very comfortable atmosphere in the richly colored wooden lodge. Peter had hooked everybody up with their drink of choice and had plopped down on the couch next to Moira, who gleefully bounced a baby Mischel on her lap. "It's just wonderful to have you all here! I've so been looking forward to it!" Moira chimed.

"Yea, we're really glad we get to spend the whole week! We could all use the getaway." Jack smiled.

"So, no Maggie again this year." Rene said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, well, she actually had plans today, but will head out first thing tomorrow morning!" Moira replied happily.

"Busy huh? With what? Her porn thing?" Rene sipped her drink, dead pan.

"...She's not a..." Moira cleared her throat, her face getting hot. "She sees a doctor, that's all, and she's doing just fine."

"I bet, if you consider getting plastered and taking nudie photos doing fine." Rene kept on.

Moira opened her mouth, but stopped. She looked to Jack, hoping he'd say something to defend his sister, but he was looking down at the floor, tapping his glass. She looked back to Rene, "She_ modeled _very briefly years ago, ok? Now she, well, she isn't working. She's taking a break. Getting better." Moira then looked away again, this time to the fireplace.

"You mean, she's still leeching money from you two with her whole 'boo-hoo' I'm depressed bullshit? She needs to get a job and grow up." Rene raised her hands up, speaking as boldly as usual.

"Peter, will you hold this angel? I've got to get dinner started, I bet! Silly me! All this talking made me forget!" Peter was vacant as well, taking the low ground and leaving Moira to handle the battle alone. Her face was painted with a painfully forced smile, as she made her way from the couch to the kitchen. She couldn't handle being in the room anymore. The usual holiday tradition was for Rene to corner each of the family members into terribly awkward topics, slathered with judgmental undertones.

After pacing about the kitchen for a few minutes, her head a mess of frustration and anger, Moira finally picked up the phone hanging on the wall by the fridge and dialed Maggie's cell. No answer. She wished she could at least be here as a buffer. Maggie was always good at defending herself and holding her own when Rene was around, but when she was absent, Moira got the brunt of Rene's discord.

Maggie had backed out of the last two Christmas get-togethers, and it broke Moira's heart. She had distanced herself ever since the incident. It had been a cold evening in 2010 when Moira received the most upsetting phone call of her life. Her daughter was in critical condition, being held at a medical center in downtown Seattle. Moira felt helpless being so far away. She had booked tickets for the earliest flight out that she could snag. Peter had been at work and unreachable by phone, and in her panic, she decided to leave on her own and contact him when she arrived in Washington. After Maggie was cleared, Moira stayed with her at her apartment for a few weeks to look after her.

During her stay, Moira came across the creased note on the night stand. What she Maggie had written changed everything. Maggie hadn't meant to survive. The words she shared with her parents and brother had made that very clear. This was something Moira never intended to share with the rest of the family, but the previous Christmas, when Maggie was a no-show, she reluctantly, and carefully, brought it out. Afterwards, Moira just smiled, her eyes undeniably sad, "She was very sick." and she discarded the letter. Unfortunately, while Moira tried her best to understand and move past the dark time in her daughters life, Jack and Peter had struggled. For some reason it was much harder for them to fully understand.

Jack immediately told Rene about it, but later regretted this. He often vented to his wife about many things, and this was the kind of gossip that sustained her wicked appetite. Peter himself was disturbed by what his daughter had to say. He felt like he didn't know her at all anymore. He hesitated regularly when it came to calling her. He'd usually end up putting the phone back. It was more a relief than anything when Maggie wouldn't come to visit, as horrible as it felt. Neither Peter or Jack knew what to say to her anymore. Moira knew this all too well from just looking at them, but always hoped the more she ignored it, the sooner they'd all move past it, Maggie too. So she hoped.

The night had ended quietly enough, and Rene gave Moira less troubles after dinner. Once everybody had settled into their rooms for the night, Moira suddenly found herself feeling very distressed. As she lay next to her husband, their room only illuminated by the moon outside, she spoke, "I'm worried about Maggie."

"I'm sure she's fine." Peter yawned, now reluctantly thinking about her. He stared up at the dark ceiling, waiting for Moira to speak again.

"Something just feels wrong. I don't know. What if she doesn't come?"

"She said she would. Call her again in the morning. Just get some sleep. The sooner you do the sooner it'll be tomorrow." He suggested.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Her stomach still didn't agree.

The horrible intuition followed her throughout the morning. It plagued her in the afternoon. By night she was a wreck.

Maggie never showed up.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Hook was still holding onto Maggie's wrist, but that was about to change. Maggie had taken a look around to see that the whiskey bottle had come to rest only a few feet away. It hadn't shattered in the scuffle, thankfully. She had yet to execute her plan of action and still fully intended to do so. Her eyes darted back to confirm the looseness of the grip that held her, and taking a chance, she ripped her arm out of Hook's clutches. Maggie turned as quickly as she could and lunged toward the bottle. Smee had reacted quickly, to his own surprise, his placement being only a few steps from the item in question. He didn't hesitate to give a swift kick to the bottle, sending it spinning wildly across the deck. He let out a valiant guffaw, feeling proud of his fast thinking.

Maggie screamed in frustrated defeat. She had already hit the ground, knees striking the floor uncomfortably. Her dive was too late, and she watched in horror as the bottle clanked it's way to the opening of the plank gap. In a pinball fashion, it bumped between the frame several times, slowed, and lazily spun at the edge of the slot. "No no no!" Maggie yelled out. The bottle tipped, and without a sound, disappeared over the side of the boat. Nobody heard it hit the water, due to Maggie's footfalls on the deck as she ran. She raced to the side of the boat and searched, her hair drooping into her face as she looked down. The bottle bobbed in the water below, and drifted carelessly, further and further away. "FUCK." She exhaled, exasperated. _Now what_.

"What a shame!" Hook said, the smile on his face could be heard in his words.

Maggie spun around to look at him, her arms wide across the side of the ship. She lifted her arm, palm up, fingertips straight, and gestured out to the sea before them. "Awesome! Really awesome!"

"A valiant effort, but all for not, I'm afraid." He began to walk towards her.

"Fuck you!" Maggie spat. She was completely lost at this point.

"That's not very nice."

"FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!" She yelled.

"I wouldn't advise further outbursts." He was now an arm's reach from Maggie, looking down at her with a befuddled expression.

Maggie's lips were pursed, looking as if she were about to erupt into shouts again. Instead, she inhaled quite loudly through her nose, and then batted her hand out, knocking Hook's hat off his head. A collective gasp from the crew could be heard.

Hook was absolutely surprised by the sudden attack on his beloved headgear. After it hit the deck with a light _'fwump'_, his eyes grew wide, "How DARE you!" Baring his teeth, Hook accusingly pointed his claw at her, his tone trenchant. _Absolutely childish!_

Again, Maggie lunged out at him, this time clasping both hands around the hook that had aimed itself at her. She yanked on it, like a dog fighting viciously over a sock.

_I'm gonna tear your hook off!_

Hook stalled, déjà vu striking him momentarily.

_See? No little children love me!_

He watched, holding steady, as the woman before him exhausted the last of her patience in such a furious fashion. It was fairly amusing, but he found Maggie's antics to be quite draining.

"SMEE! Get this urchin off of me!"

Smee approached Maggie from behind, but without even having to look back, the girl swung her elbow backwards and made contact with his nose. Smee stumbled away, astonished. His hand shot up to his injured schnoz, blood already seeping out. "Oghh y'wild bisch!" His words muffled. Several crewmen aided him, while others circled Maggie, unsure if they wanted to tangle with the girl themselves.

"Am I the only living man on this vessel?" Hook shouted, becoming increasingly irritated.

The men who had moved in jumped at the comment, no longer hesitating. They took to each side of Maggie, tearing her hands off their Captain.

"Hands off, ass hats!" She kicked out, furiously. Her foot came only inches from Hook's face.

"I've had quite enough of you, woman!" He was feeling offended now. This beast spawn of Pan had the audacity to create such commotion on the Jolly Roger. _I think not._ Hook had fully intended to give Maggie quarter for her compliance during her 'stay'. However, this was completely uncalled for._ A lady Pan raised, he did not! So appalling! She is a grown woman, after all! _

"I know how to straighten you out." He sneered, drawing his gaze away from her to the men restraining her.

"The Boo Box."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The words felt wonderfully sweet. Oh, how Hook loved to submit unruly individuals to the box. _Never a lady though..._

He almost regretted his decision, but Maggie kicked out again, this time coming frightfully close to his 'personals.'

"_There's a first for everything." _He thought. Even the crewmen looked surprised. They looked at one another, and then back to Hook. The incredible sneer they saw on his face confirmed their question. Together, they hauled Maggie up off her feet and carried her away. Hook followed a bit behind, proudly raising his hands up as he went. This prompted the obnoxious crew to chant and cheer as they fell into a march, following closely.

"The fuck is going on? Put me down! This is bullshit!" Maggie rambled heatedly, her struggles feeble against the clutches of the pirates. A handful of men had already gathered around the ominous box. "BOOOOO!" They sung. The lid was opened up and they proceeded to place Maggie inside. She kicked wildly again, her boot colliding with one of the men's noses, cracking it loudly. He yelped and fell back into the crowd. "Eat shit!" Maggie triumphantly screeched. An array of dirty and calloused hands shot down and clutched her legs, pressing them into the box. She made time for one last swipe, scratching another man's face. The fellow barked, reaching for his cheek. By now, Maggie had been completely detained. Creaking, the lid then came down, the light cutting out around her.

"Oh, and go easy on her. Nothing poisonous. Just the things that pinch." Hook's smile was wide. As the lid continued down, Maggie watched the captain wave to her with his fingertips. Then all was dark. Only the musty wood of the chest kept her company.

She heard stomps and muted laughter from the horde outside. The sound of a bucket crashed down close, making her turn her head in that direction. _The fuck are they doing._ Her breathing was heavy and exhausted, suppressed around her now.

She listened to herself, as well as the tromping that went about beyond the box, and waited. Suddenly, a ray of light shot in from above. It came from a wooden flap in the lid of the container. The illumination from the sun made it impossible to see anything other than the hand of the man who had opened the unusual tab. Something then filled the void. Something both spindly and round. It made a hollow scraping sound as it was pushed through the hole. It then fell onto her chest. She shrieked in fear. Not knowing what it was made her terribly uneasy. She tilted abruptly, trying to make the thing tumble off of her. She heard it clunk at the base of the box. Craning her neck uncomfortably, she looked to see. Before she had time to make out what it was, she felt another thing pelt her from above. Then another, and another. Whatever it was, it was alarmingly blunt and heavy. She had counted around eight that had been dropped in.

Her frightened whimpers were amplified in the box, making her feel terribly claustrophobic. Suddenly, sharp pain ran through her thumb. It was an immediate and hot ache. She yanked her arm up, but it was much heavier than usual. The throb in her thumb became much worse as she pulled. Then she saw it. Clamped onto the pad of her thumb was a light red crab. It's body was roughly the size of her palm. It was fairly reminiscent to the ones she'd see at the grocery store. It had its large claw was pressed down, and didn't look as if it'd let up anytime soon.

Maggie was hardly aware of her chorus of screams, as she frantically writhed. She used her free hand to tear at the crab's pincers, attempting to pull them apart and free herself. It was terrifyingly impossible. It hardly budged as her fingers yanked. She started to feel parts of her clothing become taut, as more of the crabs grabbed onto her. Some had only managed to snag bits of her shirt, but others had managed to nip at parts of her flesh as well. The pain was immediate and unbearable. Maggie continued to scream, her panic rising at an alarming speed. There was hardly time for thinking, what with the sound of the hard legs clacking and dragging all around her.

"LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!" She had absolutely no idea what else to do. Her hand pounded the top of the Boo Box. She was in undeniable terror, reluctantly anticipating the next tinge of pain that may come.

"Alright, alright." Hook announced. "This is just too cruel!" Hook smiled apologetically, looking around to meet the faces of his crew. They all laughed in agreement.

It felt like it had taken forever for the lid to finally lift back up, it's hinges groaning. The sunshine rushed in and hit Maggie's eyes. The sting hardly registered, what with her current situation, but her eyes quickly teared up, making it futile to try and focus.

"Dump the poor girl." Hook demanded.

The brutes in charge of the box tilted it with haste, sending Maggie rolling out across the deck. Boots stomped back as she went. She then came to a stop, laying on her stomach. The crabs were plucked off of her and returned to their bucket quite quickly by a small team of pirates.

"Back ya go!" One of them chortled at the crustacean from Maggie's thumb. "Last bit of fun you'll be gettin' before dinner time!" His voice faded as he moved through the crowd, the others joining in and carrying what was left of the shellfish gang.

Hook strode up to Maggie, his shiny black and red heels before her head. He knelt down. "Such an unfortunate turn of events!"

Maggie curled up a bit, legs to her chest, face hidden by her messy hair. She cradled her injured hand beneath her. "Fugoff." Came a mumble.

"What was that?" Hook asked in a sarcastically demure way. He gently removed the hair from her face with his hook, revealing the streak of tears on her cheek from the momentarily blinding only moments ago. He assumed she had been weeping. For a moment he felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

The Boo Box was probably an incredibly dramatic choice, but Maggie had proven to be a bit of a handful. Maybe it would put her in her place. Oh, how he hated to make girls cry!

Hook had never truly felt challenged by a young lady, other than by the famous Wendy Darling. Even in the face of danger, she at least had incredible manners and poise. It was simple to be a gentleman around that girl. She was an ideal prisoner! However, he found himself struggling with Maggie. She lacked that 'Darling Family' charm. She was more like a feral cat.

"Perhaps you've had enough excitement for one day?" Hook asked.

Nothing but a tiny, frustrated whimper came from the girl.

Hook clicked his tongue again, "Yes, I'd say so. Smee? Could you show the lady to her room?" Hook turned to look at his faithful bo'sun. Smee's nose was a fearsome red, but the bleeding had at least ceased. He was careful not to roll his eyes at Hook. Frankly, he didn't want anything to do with Maggie anymore. Today had been more than enough of a romp for him.

Maggie felt herself being lifted up. Her arm was pulled over Smee's shoulder, his hand holding her in place. "This way, ma'am."


	14. Chapter 14

_I actually want to start this off with a little personal note!_

_I've NEVER shared fanfiction online, nor have I ever really gotten into any one fandom enough to be inspired to write something. This has been a really great experience, and it totally surprised me. All of the interactions from you readers has made this something I really look forward to writing. You truly are the cause that keeps me motivated to work on this! Without the kind comments and encouraging messages, this would have easily been a one-off short story, lost and collecting dust in an obscure folder on my computer. As a matter of fact, because of the random Hook x Maggie fanart I posted to my DA page, people asked for a link to the story, and frankly, it only existed in my head at the time! As passing daydreams! So, to everybody who has shown interest, this story exists and continues to unfold because of you and your inspiring enthusiasm! _

_I'd really like to give my most heartfelt thank you to all of you for subbing and sticking with me on this little journey of sorts! Here's to many more Neverland adventures!_

Chapter 14

The room which Smee presented to Maggie, or more or less plopped her into before turning tail and leaving quite quickly, was small and creaky, but somewhat furnished. She heard him heading for the door, and found it hard to convince herself to bother talking to him. In truth she wanted to lie down and fall into some serious sleep. The idea of even opening her mouth seemed far too taxing. The simple bed in the corner called out to her, a hazy ray of sunlight hovering over the quilted bedding, pointing. Beckoning. Her intense connection with the bed was broken when she heard the rattling of Smee locking the door behind her. She turned to observe, and caught the final motions of the spotty gold knob jostling a bit before it stopped, followed by Smee's footfalls plodding away.

She had been taken to the second story of a rather worn out building, a block or so away from the Jolly Roger. They had gone up an uncomfortable flight of stairs to get there. Her legs had cramped up, finally calling it quits for the day, and she could feel their disgruntled aches with each step she took. They were like cement blocks beneath her, her weight becoming an absolute burden to carry for much longer.

Maggie could hear voices from outside. She slowly made her way to the window, and rested her palms on the worn out sill. She looked down into the busy street below, observing the tops of hat clad heads, decorated with grungy feathers, going by. There were many curious people out there, all going about their apparent business. Though, whatever that was, none of these 'citizens' of Pirate Town looked to be incredibly reliable, like a ton of teenagers dragging out a day at a retail gig. _What do these shits do all day anyway?_ She looked farther out and saw the Jolly Roger gently rocking on the water. Maggie frowned, thinking about how Hook must be striding around on the ship, patting himself on the back for the hell he had successfully put her through. From this room, however, Maggie could almost pretend he didn't even exist. Perhaps she wouldn't even have to see him again. Sleep all of this weirdness away. Wake up in her apartment with a dry mouth and a dizzy head.

"Whaaat the fuck ever." Maggie groggily mumbled as she finally trudged her way to the bed. She popped her boots off using her toes, wincing a bit as she did so. She successfully removed the shoes and left them laying helpless on the wooden floor. Then, feeling as if it were the one thing she had ever truly wanted, she fell onto the bed. A tuft of dust billowed out around her, sending little flecks floating into the warm ray of sunlight that came through the window. She exhaled, with an audible moan. Every part of her relaxed. The blankets were cool against her hot, swollen feet and aching legs. It was almost euphoric. She fell into a deep slumber only mere seconds later.

**Meanwhile, In Seattle:**

Rosie opened up the trash bin and tossed in the remains of her devoured TV Dinner. She had been running low on groceries for a decent meal come lunch, but had several low cal frozen dinners hiding in her freezer. They tasted like ripe shit, but she'd have to restock her cupboards after work. There were a handful of patients scheduled today, leaving her little to no time to dawdle. She sped walked back to her office, pulling the bobby pins out of her hair as she went. It was getting frightfully nippy out, and they had neglected to turn the heat up in the building that morning. Her ears felt like little ice chips. _Hair down it is then!_

The metal sill of her large office window was lined with various, thick leaved house plants and a collection of resin frogs. Rosie adored frogs. If you took a look around, you'd easily count around thirty or so, of all types, placed around her office. It had gotten a bit out of control, and was more of a joke with her friends and coworkers now. There wasn't a birthday or Christmas that went by where everybody would go out looking for frog themed things to gift her.

Her appointments came and went throughout the early morning, and as nine o'clock rolled around, she was ready for one of her more enjoyable patients. Maggie Banning. Rosie looked forward to her visit more than usual today, seeing as her eight o'clock was Lester, a middle aged man who believed he had a severe case of MPD, one of his alternate personalities being a cocaine snorting hamster.

Nine o'clock quickly became nine thirty. Rosie had arranged her ballpoint pens twice now, and sat, gazing at her analog desk clock blankly. "Where in the world is that girl...?" She flipped through her appointment journal to make sure she had the time right. Indeed, Maggie had been jotted down for nine sharp. For a moment, Rosie reluctantly thought that perhaps Maggie had relapsed. As much as she hated to assume the worst, many people with similar problems had a rough time climbing out of the theoretical hole they had fallen into. Rosie's patients would sometimes just stop coming altogether. No closure provided. People that once sat in her office to hash out their addictions would soon throw in the towel, never to return to the frog infested office ever again. It was unfortunate, but not uncommon. She wanted to have all the faith in the world for each of her patients, especially the lost young ones. She had been one herself once.

Rosie began to lock up for the evening, but there was just something so odd to her about the no-show on Maggie's part. She knew she was alone out here, her parents living several states over. If anything, Rosie felt it best to dig up Maggie's emergency contacts and pass along that she had been absent. _A responsible move, I suppose._ Rosie got back into her office, pulled open her file drawer, and removed Maggie's folder. Peter and Moira Banning were listed in her contacts. She dialed them right away.

"Hello?" A breathlessly hopeful voice answered. It was Moira.

"Hi there, this is Rosie Leesand. I'm calling about your daughter, Maggie?"

Moira cut in right away, a bit frantic, "Oh yes, do you have any idea where she is?"

"Unfortunately I don't! I was calling to let you know she didn't show up for her appointment with me today."

"...Ohh no. No. Where could she be then?"

"So, she hasn't contacted you then? We met up last week, and she seemed in good spirits when she left. I was worried when she didn't come in today." Rosie replied.

"Yes, she called me afterwards. We talked about her coming over and I've been trying her on her phone all day...She was supposed to be here by now! God, Rosie, please. Could you go to her apartment for me? Please! I'm so incredibly worried..." Moira's voice wavered.

Rosie hesitated a second, "Ah, yea. Yea. I can do that. I have her address on file, I'll see what's going on and get back to you right away." Rosie hadn't intended to get so involved, but at the same time, it was worrisome that this was unusual to Maggie's mother. Rosie was the only one close enough that knew her to go check in. She wasn't going to sleep tonight knowing the girl's mother was in shambles.

"Thank you so much, Rosie, really. Truly."

Rosie pulled into an unmarked parking spot at the Evergreen Creek apartment complex. In the 330F space sat Maggie's Honda. _Must be home_. Rosie trotted across the freshly tarred pavement, and up the staircase. A dirty welcome mat lay crooked in front of Maggie's door. It read, "Nice Underwear."

Rosie rapped on the door and waited. Nothing. She tried again, but was greeted with similar silence. She was about to leave, when somebody spoke, "Do you know the girl who lives here?" The irritated voice came from behind her. Rosie squawked and spun around. "OH! My gosh." She lightly placed her hand up to her heart. "Yes, I do. Do you know where she might be?"

"No! She's my upstairs neighbor! She destroyed her window the other night, scared the shit out of all of us! We swear we saw somebody fall from up there! Bunch of drunken idiots." The irate woman spoke. "Listen, whatever the hell she's doing in there, can you tell her the next time any of that weird shit happens again, I'm calling the cops! I already reported her to the office."

"Y-yea. I'll pass that-" but the woman had already retreated back down a flight of stairs. "-Along." Rosie spoke quietly to herself.

Rosie was curious about the window. She went back down to the base of the complex and walked around to the backyard. She looked up to the third floor and saw that the window was indeed shattered. Glass fragments lay scattered in the grass and bushes below. "What the hell happened...?" Rosie felt a wave of concern. Maggie didn't seem like the vandalizing type. This certainly didn't look like the work of an intruder either, what with it being so high up. _What DID happen?_

Rosie got out her cell, and unfolded the photocopy of the Banning's number. "Moira? I think we may have a problem."


End file.
